


You Shall Receive

by annundriel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3614547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annundriel/pseuds/annundriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian isn't used to asking (or getting).</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Shall Receive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dinojay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinojay/gifts).



> Inspired by [this piece of dinojay's art](http://dinojay.tumblr.com/post/113126306055/quick-nsfw-drawing-behind-the-cut) that took over my brain as soon as I saw it.

Dorian squirms, feels...impatient and turned on and, just a little, vulnerable. He's not used to that here, like this; vulnerability is not something he does when his clothes are off (or on), not usually. But the Bull has him over his lap, naked and hard and—

"I'm _waiting_."

The Bull chuckles, low as thunder, and Dorian remembers one particular night out in the Hinterlands when storm clouds rolled in and the air became charged. It feels that way now, the Bull's eyes on him, his thighs hard and muscular beneath him.

"I'm just enjoying the view," he says, which makes Dorian sigh, his head dropping forward between his hands.

"That's not why we're here."

"Isn't it?" The Bull's fingers, thick and calloused, brush Dorian's thigh just above the back of his knee. Dorian groans, twitching in anticipation. "I thought we were here to enjoy ourselves?" His fingers brush again, higher up, just below the crease where his thigh meets—"Aren't you enjoying yourself?"

The Bull's hand is wide and hot, calloused in just the right places. His fingers spread against Dorian's ass and Dorian's cock, caught between his body and the Bull's thigh, twitches. So close, the Bull is _so close_ to what Dorian wants, just a little—

The hand disappears, and Dorian tenses only to moan with disappointment as it brushes the back of his thigh again, slips between his legs to tease at the skin behind his balls.

"You are a menace," Dorian says, huffing a sigh as he hangs his head. "An absolute menace. Are you going to get on with it or what?"

Hand sliding up, the Bull's fingers brush against him, teasing, until his hand rests on the curve of Dorian's ass. In his chest, Dorian's heart trips, adrenaline rushing suddenly through his veins.

"Why so impatient, kadan?" the Bull asks, and Dorian's heart trips for another reason entirely, one that makes Dorian's skin feel hot, makes him squirm, bite his lip. Has nothing to do with the Bull's cock brushing his belly, and everything to do with those two syllables in that tone. They haven't talked about what they mean, and Dorian hasn't asked. But he did look them up, late one night when the Bull was gone with the Inquisitor to that forsaken mire—after the first time Dorian refused to return. He'd looked the word up, fingers brushing the spines of dusty tomes, and found it with little trouble. Had needed to sit for a moment and think—no, not think. He'd had to sit and feel, overwhelmed suddenly by—

"Here I thought you enjoyed this...You did ask for it, after all."

He had. And blushed the whole time. Despite being an adult. Despite having had the Bull's mouth on him, his tongue and fingers in him. Despite having sucked his cock and had his own sucked. Not to mention the times he's grabbed the Bull by the horns—literally—and demanded (begged) the Bull to fuck him. The times he's been tied—literally and metaphorically—in knots.

"Well I wouldn't be complaining if you just got on with—”

The smack surprises him, ringing out in the Bull's room even as it rings through Dorian's body, the sound and then the _feeling_ , the sharp sting—a surprise even as Dorian was anticipating it—that makes his muscles jump and his body tense and—

"Shit, yes," he says, groaning, hips pressing against the Bull's lap. It's as good as he'd thought it would be, as good as he'd hoped, the Bull's hand wide and rough, just the right amount of force and—

Again, the smack rings out and around and through, Dorian's muscles tensing as his skin warms, his fingers flexing against the sheets. He can feel the shape of the Bull's hand on his skin, five fingers and palm. Wants to feel it more clearly. Wants to move and know that the Bull was _there_.

"Like that, kadan?" the Bull asks, voice rumbling. His hand rests on Dorian's ass lightly now, barely a touch at all really, and Dorian aches to push into it, to feel that hand more firmly against his flesh.

"Yes," Dorian sighs. "Maker, why'd you stop?"

The Bull's hand moves, a circular motion, and Dorian's reminded of predators, of prey. Wonders at the exhilaration he feels pumping through his veins. Beneath him, his cock aches. He shifts, looking for relief, and the Bull's hand stops. Stills for an infinite moment, and then it's gone and—

His skin stings, his body sings. Nerves alight, he swears in Tevene as his flesh heats, bites his lips and tries not to cry out as the Bull's hand descends again, a rapid slap that shifts his hips in the Bull's lap, gives him just enough friction to make his mouth fall open, make him groan. He braces for the next one, but it doesn't come. Again, the Bull's hand rests, this time fingers trailing up and down Dorian's thighs. Each movement up makes him shiver.

"Why—" he clears his throat "why'd you stop?"

He can't see the Bull's face, but he knows that shit-eating grin would be firmly in place simply by the tone of his voice. "It's better this way," he says, fingers brushing the swell of Dorian's balls. "I can feel how much you want it. You're aching for it, kadan. You're wet with it."

He is, cock leaking where it's trapped between the Bull's thigh and Dorian's stomach. He'd blush if he wasn't already.

"And I'm going to give it to you." His fingers slide up, brush against Dorian's hole. He almost wants to stop, to push back and beg the Bull to finger him, to fuck him, anything, _anything_. "I'm going to give it to you, kadan, because you asked so nicely. But not before I hear you ask again."

Dorian swears under his breath, his heart racing. It was difficult enough asking the first time. With all that they’ve done, all that they do, this should be easy, no big deal. Except that Dorian is bent over the Bull’s knee, prone over his lap, completely at his mercy and happy to be so. He doesn’t want to be anywhere else, hasn’t wanted to be anywhere other than by the Bull’s side for what feels like ages but is only weeks, months, a blink of the eye. He’s intimately aware of the fluidity of time, its possible ebbing and flowing. With the Bull, everything is both too fast and too slow, too much and not enough. A study in contradiction, a balanced dichotomy. He’s bent over his lap—finally—and still the words catch in his throat, feeling heavy and thick on his tongue.

The Bull’s fingers tease at him, and there’s the sharp hint of nail. Thighs shift, and Dorian rocks slightly, groaning.

“Please,” he gets out through a tight throat. He swallows. “Please.”

“Please what?” His fingers still, resting against Dorian’s entrance. “Please fuck me, Bull? Please finger me?” He presses the tip of a finger more firmly against him. “Please make me come so hard I set the bedclothes on fire?”

“That was one time!” He’d been overwhelmed, it wasn’t the usual. “And besides, I—”

The slap comes out of nowhere, and Dorian almost bites his tongue. Heat fills him; for a moment he thinks he _might_ set the bedclothes on fire. Push back into it or pull away, he isn’t sure what he wants. He hopes it’s beginning to show, though, that his skin is darkening like it feels like it is.

That this affects Bull like it affects him.

“Fuck,” he says, panting a little. “Yes, Bull, like that, like—”

“You still haven’t asked.” Bull’s voice is deep, rougher than it was moments ago. Against his stomach, Dorian can feel him hard. “And I know you can. You asked so prettily before, how could I say no.” His hand smoothes over Dorian’s heated skin. “How could I deny you anything, kadan?”

Dorian’s heart clenches, relaxes, and Dorian feels…he feels…different, new. Fingers curling into fists, he closes his eyes tight, breathes deep. Asks, finally, “Spank me, please. Bull, spank—”

The impact shudders through him, sparks of pain and pleasure intermingled, almost indistinguishable. The Bull’s hand—his large, rough, _perfect_ hand—lands again and again, each slap ratcheting up the heat in Dorian’s blood until his hands are grasping at the Bull’s thigh, his head hanging low. He can barely remember his own name.

“Like that, kadan?” the Bull asks, and Dorian thinks, _yes, yes, kadan, like that_. “You like that? You’re so good, Dorian”— _slap_ —“in my lap like this”— _smack_ —“should keep you here all the time.”

Dorian groans, the thought too much.

The Bull chuckles, hand rubbing before—

Dorian jolts.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe only on special occasions.”

It’s too much, it’s too much and not enough and Dorian needs, he needs…

“ _Please_ ,” he breathes. “Bull, please, I—”

The Bull grunts and the world shifts. Dorian’s still in his lap, but they’re suddenly face to face, his knees on either side of those thighs. One of Bull’s hands is firm on the small of Dorian’s back, holding him still, holding him steady as the other wraps around his cock and that’s it, that’s all it takes. Dorian comes with a shout, the Bull’s lips moving against the curve of his neck.

“Good,” he murmurs, and, “Yes. So good, Dorian, kadan. So fucking hot. I’ll bend you over my knee whenever you want, tie you to the bedposts. All you have to do is ask. All you have to—”

Dorian groans, clinging to him, fingers digging into those wide shoulders, strong enough to carry the weight of the world. “Fuck me,” he says. “Fuck me.”

Swearing in Qunlat, the Bull’s fingers flex, tightening against him as his own come joins Dorian’s between them, hot and thick against Dorian’s skin. It’s unbelievably hot, and later Dorian will ask him to do it again. On his chest, perhaps, or the small of his back. His face. Or, maybe, deep inside him.

The thought makes Dorian shiver, and the Bull pulls him close, arms gentle around him.

“Next time,” the Bull says with a rueful chuckle. “Next time I’ll redden that ass of yours and fuck you ‘til you can’t move.”

Dorian nods and absolutely does not nuzzle at him. “You say the sweetest things.”


End file.
